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I admit the truth freely because without Grace here to talk to, Kelsey is the one person who can truly understand my conundrum. “I just assumed that you fell for Coop and felt secure in that choice.”
She laughs. “I didn’t choose to love him, believe me. I tried to convince myself that he was just a fling, a bit of good dick to reward me during my last year of college, ya know? But it wasn’t just a fling and the more I tried to convince myself, the more obvious it became that I was failing miserably.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Really. I mean, until everything happened, I planned to be in med school anywhere but here, so what was the point of searching for someone serious?”
My shoulders fall in defeat. “I was really hoping you were going to hit me with some when you know, you know the type of bullshit.”
A loud laugh roars out of Kelsey, surprising me. “Sorry? Just kidding, I’m totally not sorry.”
“Thanks,” I say in her direction just as the oven timer dings. “Should we eat and watch a movie?”
Kelsey’s blue eyes go wide with mischief. “And risk getting tomato sauce and pepperoni grease on Mom’s white sofa? Hell yes. Let’s watch something where a bad-ass chick gets revenge on those who wronged her.”
My sister’s words surprise me. “Sold.”
We share a laugh and move around the kitchen in companionable silence, something that’s never existed between us before. It’s nice and relaxing, and it makes me feel less alone in my feelings for Mark, my grief over Grace, and even the general directionless state of my life.
“Thanks for coming over, Kels.”
“You asked, and you sounded like you needed me.”
“Well, thanks anyway. I really didn’t want to be alone, so thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She flashes a smile over her shoulder just as all the lights in the house go off.
“Uh, did Daddy forget to pay the bill?”
A nervous laugh escapes, and I shake my head even though I know she can’t see me. “Doubtful.”
A crash sounds from the east wing of the house where Daddy’s office sits. “You heard that, right?” The fear in Kelsey’s voice is unmistakable.
“I heard it,” I whisper and put my hands out, patting the counter as quietly as I can. “Is your phone nearby?”
“Uhmmmm,” she extends that one word out to about nine syllables. “Got it.”
“The pantry,” I whisper just as I hear glass breaking in the utility room just past the pantry.
“Shit, upstairs. Quietly.”
Kelsey’s breaths come out ragged and full of anxiety.
“Kenna,” she cries out almost silently.
“It’s okay, Kels. Reach for my hand.”
Our fingertips touch and I grab for her, pulling her close and clasping our hands together.
“Let’s go. Now!” We make a run for it up the curved staircase, bypassing my room and Kelsey’s old room in favor of one of the guest rooms. “Closet,” I whisper. “Get down.”
We climb inside the closet and crouch down toward the back, where I hope no one will see us.
“Who is that? Did you see anyone?” Kelsey asks in a whispered voice.
“I didn’t see anyone, but I’m sure it’s that guy Hector and his people. He’s really unhinged and out for blood.”
The only question in my mind is whether they’re here for me or for my sister. “Just try to stay as quiet as possible and send a message to Coop.”
“Okay.” Her harsh breaths terrify me. Another attack, and I might lose my sister forever.
Heavy footsteps sound up and down the length of the hallway on the other side of the closet wall.
“Those bitches are here like I said,” a harsh, angry voice shouts. “The oven’s hot, and look. Cold drinks on the table. Find them.”
His words send a bolt of fear sliding down my spine, and I reach for Kelsey’s hand, squeezing it tight while I try to reassure myself that everything will be all right.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the ornate handle on the closet door turns a second before it’s yanked open. A man in a dark t-shirt and a leather vest stands in front of us with a menacing smile.
“Found them!” He leans forward and grabs a handful of my hair, yanking me out of the closet and across the plush carpet that’s not nearly as soft when you’re being dragged across it.
“Stop that! Let me go, you asshole! Let me go!” I kick my legs and grip his wrist to stop him from tearing my hair from the scalp.
“She’s a feisty bitch,” he laughs. “I like it!”
“Get your hands off me!” I smack at his hands, hoping to free them or at the very least, to loosen his grip.
“I can make this easy if you play nice.”
“Screw you.” I spit the words at him, and his smile fades. I brace myself as he rears his fist back, releasing and landing it on my left cheek.
